Hey Ram!
Now it is ‘use and throw’ culture
And there is huge difference from the days of our Grandfather
Who owned wire-rimmed glasses and pen
Which could be proudly preserved till generations.
Things made today in our land
Doesn’t last even for a lifetime
Glasses meaning thin, fashionable contact lenses
Which could be used only till passing of that academic exams.
Gandhi said “means are more important then ends”
And through non-violence from British freedom for our country lent
But we now by making –“end is more important than means”,
Undoing the hard earned freedom’s good deeds!
poem by Venkatesh M. R.
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Related quotes
A Map Of Culture
Culture
Contents
What is Culture?
The Importance of Culture
Culture Varies
Culture is Critical
The Sociobiology Debate
Values, Norms, and Social Control
Signs and Symbols
Language
Terms and Definitions
Approaches to the Study of Culture
Are We Prisoners of Our Culture?
What is Culture?
I prefer the definition used by Ian Robertson: 'all the shared products of society: material and nonmaterial' (Our text defines it in somewhat more ponderous terms- 'The totality of learned, socially transmitted behavior. It includes ideas, values, and customs (as well as the sailboats, comic books, and birth control devices) of groups of people' (p.32) .
Back to Contents
[...] Read more
poem by Nyein Way
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Throw It All Away
How could you
Just hurt me
And leave me
(leave me all alone)
How could you destroy my life
How could you throw it all away
What made you
Desert me and deceive me
Why did you just let me down
How could you throw it all away
How could you throw...
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
When I gave my all, baby
How could you throw it all away
And I gave my all
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all away
You destroyed my life, baby
How could you throw it all way
How could you
Just lead me
Into thinking
(thinking you would be there)
How could you destroy my heart
How could you throw it all away
I love you
Believe you
And I trusted you
(put all my trust in you)
How could you just let me down
How could you throw it all way
How could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Girl how could you
Throw it all away
How could you just take it all
How could you throw it all away
Oh how could you throw
How could you throw it all away
Throw it all
Throw it all away
When I gave my love
How could you throw it all away
I love you girl
You love me so
Where did we go wrong
I know that i
Gave my all to you
[...] Read more
song performed by 112
Added by Lucian Velea
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Temporary Poem Of My Time
Hebrew writing and Arabic writing go from east to west,
Latin writing, from west to east.
Languages are like cats:
You must not stroke their hair the wrong way.
The clouds come from the sea, the hot wind from the desert,
The trees bend in the wind,
And stones fly from all four winds,
Into all four winds. They throw stones,
Throw this land, one at the other,
But the land always falls back to the land.
They throw the land, want to get rid of it.
Its stones, its soil, but you can't get rid of it.
They throw stones, throw stones at me
In 1936, 1938, 1948, 1988,
Semites throw at Semites and anti-Semites at anti-Semites,
Evil men throw and just men throw,
Sinners throw and tempters throw,
Geologists throw and theologists throw,
Archaelogists throw and archhooligans throw,
Kidneys throw stones and gall bladders throw,
Head stones and forehead stones and the heart of a stone,
Stones shaped like a screaming mouth
And stones fitting your eyes
Like a pair of glasses,
The past throws stones at the future,
And all of them fall on the present.
Weeping stones and laughing gravel stones,
Even God in the Bible threw stones,
Even the Urim and Tumim were thrown
And got stuck in the beastplate of justice,
And Herod threw stones and what came out was a Temple.
Oh, the poem of stone sadness
Oh, the poem thrown on the stones
Oh, the poem of thrown stones.
Is there in this land
A stone that was never thrown
And never built and never overturned
And never uncovered and never discovered
And never screamed from a wall and never discarded by the builders
And never closed on top of a grave and never lay under lovers
And never turned into a cornerstone?
Please do not throw any more stones,
You are moving the land,
The holy, whole, open land,
You are moving it to the sea
And the sea doesn't want it
The sea says, not in me.
[...] Read more
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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... & Through The Wire
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
Its through the wire
Friday night, youre staying at home I want you
Im tickling and clicking a metronome I want you
Prowling the waterhole-i wait for the kill I want you
Pressures building-overspill I want you
And through the wire you are secure
And through the wire we can talk
And through the wire we can walk
Its through the wire
Watchmaker steadies his delicate hand I want you
For barbeque parties on blood red sands I want you
Caught in the struggle tight on the rod I want you
Bring out the devil to bring out the God I want you
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
Its through the wire
Driving round the city rings
Staring at the shape of things
I talk in pictures not in words
Overloaded with everything we said
Be careful where you tread
Watch the wire
And through the wire you are secure
And through the wire we can talk
And through the wire we can walk
And through the wire were clinging like leeches
And through the wire we push out tailormade speeches
And through the wire we get so strange across the border
We get so strange across the border
song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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And Through The Wire
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
Its through the wire
Friday night, youre staying at home I want you
Im tickling and clicking a metronome I want you
Prowling the waterhole-i wait for the kill I want you
Pressures building-overspill I want you
And through the wire you are secure
And through the wire we can talk
And through the wire we can walk
Its through the wire
Watchmaker steadies his delicate hand I want you
For barbeque parties on blood red sands I want you
Caught in the strugle tight on the rod I want you
Bring out the devil to bring out the God I want you
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
Its through the wire
Driving round the city rings
Staring at the shape of things
I talk in pictures not in words
Overloaded with everything we said
Be careful where you tread
Watch the wire
And through the wire you are secure
And through the wire we can talk
And through the wire we can walk
And through the wire were clinging like leeches
And through the wire we push out tailormade speeches
And through the wire we get so strange across the border
We get so strange across the border
song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Start
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
It's through the wire
Friday night, you're staying at home I want you
I'm tickling and clicking a metronome I want you
Prowling the waterhole-I wait for the kill I want you
Pressure's building-overspill I want you
And through the wire You are secure
And through the wire We can talk
And through the wire We can walk
It's through the wire
Watchmaker steadies his delicate hand I want you
For barbecue parties on blood red sands I want you
Caught in the struggle tight on the rod I want you
Bring out the devil to bring out the god I want you
And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
It's through the wire
Driving 'round the city rings
Staring at the shape of things
I talk in pictures not in words
Overloaded with everything we said
be careful where you tread
Watch the wire
And through the wire You are secure
And through the wire We can talk
And through the wire We can walk
And through the wire We're clinging like leeches
And through the wire We push out tailor-made speeches
And through the wire We get so strange across the border
We get so strange across the border
song performed by Peter Gabriel
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society
Epigraph
Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.
I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.
You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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Youth Culture Killed My Dog
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the night lights and my dog's life aren't exactly one and the same
Youth culture killed my dog
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And the judgement made in the city of hate
Just broke his spirit so
Bacharach and david used to write his favorite songs
Never, never, never would he worry, he'd just run and fetch the ball
But the hiphop and the white funk just blew away my puppy's mind
I don't understand what you did to my dog
And i don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
I don't understand what you did to my dog
Youth culture killed my dog (youth culture killed my dog)
And i don't think it's fair (i don't think it's fair)
And his suicide can be justified
By the tastemakers, how they cried and cried and so
Youth culture (youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Youth culture (youth culture)
(youth culture)
Broke his spirit so (broke his spirit so)
Broke his spirit so
song performed by They Might Be Giants
Added by Lucian Velea
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Guitar & Pen
Youre alone above the street somewhere
Youre alone above the street somewhere
Wondering how youll ever count out there
Wondering how youll ever count out there
You can walk, you can talk, you can fight
You can walk, you can talk, you can fight
But inside youve got something to write
But inside youve got something to write
In your hand you hold your only friend
In your hand you hold your only friend
Never spend your guitar or your pen
Never spend your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up
When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up
When youre kicking the fence and still nothing will budge
When youre kicking the fence and still nothing will budge
When the words are immobile until you sit down
When the words are immobile until you sit down
Never feel theyre worth keeping, theyre not easily found
Never feel theyre worth keeping, theyre not easily found
Then you know in some strange, unexplainable way
Then you know in some strange, unexplainable way
You must really have something
You must really have something
Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away
Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away
Important to say
Important to say
When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream
When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream
And you swear and you curse cause the rhyming aint clean
And you swear and you curse cause the rhyming aint clean
But it suddenly comes after years of delay
But it suddenly comes after years of delay
You pick up your guitar, you can suddenly play
You pick up your guitar, you can suddenly play
When your fingers are bleeding and the knuckles are white
When your fingers are bleeding and the knuckles are white
Then you can be sure, you can open the door
Then you can be sure, you can open the door
Get off of the floor tonight
Get off of the floor tonight
[...] Read more
song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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In the Height of Fashion
SO at last a toll they’ll levy
For the passing fool who sings—
Take the harp grown dull and heavy
(With the dried blood on the strings)
Let us sing, and sing right gaily,
For the wreath is on our brow—
Are you hearin’, Victor Daley?
We are fashionable now!
Once the greatest earl could flout us,
And the meanest scribe could sneer—
Nought too bad to say about us,
Nought too hard for us to hear.
Slaves to journal-owning Neroes,
And we died—no matter how—
We’re sweet singers now and heroes,
We are fashionable now.
Once we suffered all save gaol, if
We’d no rich admirers near;
And our sole guest was the bailiff
And our only comfort beer.
Now we’ll dine with toffs and “ladies”,
Who shall clasp our hands and bow.
Let the pale muse go to Hades!
We are fashionable now.
Once we had to be contented
With the “Palace of the Mind”,
While our coats were washed and mended,
And our pants were patched behind;
Now by goose-knights we are measured,
While the lordly tailors bow;
And our worn-out pants are treasured—
We are fashionable now!
Once, when stony-broke and mournful,
We put our petition clear,
Then our country, cold and scornful,
Answered, “Go and get a beer!”
And it threw the tray bit at us
Just to stop our “silly row”,
Now it’s champagne spreads and—satis!
We are fashionable now.
Once our grandest lines were drivel,
And our wisest words were rot,
All our teachings false and evil,
To be sneered at and forgot;
Now our silliest clack delights ’em,
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Lawson
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What A Difference Youve Made
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
Oh, what a difference youve made
In my life.
What a change you have made in my heart.
What a change you have made in my heart.
You replaced all the broken parts.
Oh, what a change you have made
In my heart.
Love to me was just a word in a song
That had been way overused.
But you gave love a meaning,
So I joined in the singing,
Thats why I wanna spread the news.
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
Oh, what a difference youve made,
(what a difference youve made,)
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
What a difference youve made in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
What a difference youve made in my life.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Difference youve made in my life.
(youre my sunshine day and night.)
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Difference youve made in my life.
(difference youve made in my life.)
Youre my sunshine day and night.
What a difference youve made.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Youve made a difference in me.
(what a difference youve made in my life.)
Youve made a change in my life.
Youre my sunshine day and night.
song performed by Amy Grant
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Day At Tivoli - Prologue
Fair blows the breeze—depart—depart—
And tread with me th' Italian shore;
And feed thy soul with glorious art;
And drink again of classic lore.
Nor sometime shalt thou deem it wrong,
When not in mood too gravely wise,
At idle length to lie along,
And quaff a bliss from bluest skies.
Or, pleased more pensive joy to woo,
At twilight eve, by ruin grey,
Muse o'er the generations, who
Have passed, as we must pass, away.
Or mark o'er olive tree and vine
Steep towns uphung; to win from them
Some thought of Southern Palestine;
Some dream of old Jerusalem.
Come, Pilgrim-Friend! At last our sun outbreaks,
And chases, one by one, dawn's lingering flakes.
Come, Pilgrim-Friend! and downward let us rove
(Thy long-vow'd vow) this old Tiburtian grove.
See where, beneath, the jocund runnels play,
All cheerly brighten'd in the brightening day.
E'en in the far-off years when Flaccus wrote,
('Tis here, I ween, no pedantry to quote,)
Thus led, they gurgled thro' those orchard-bowers
To feed the herb—the fruitage—and the flowers.
Come, then, and snatch Occasion; transient boon!
And sliding into Future all too soon.
That Future's self possession just as brief,
And stolen, soon as given, by Time—the Thief.
Well! if such filching knave we needs must meet,
Let us, as best we may, the Cheater cheat;
And, since the Then, the Now, will flit so fast,
Look back, and lengthen life into the Past.
That Past is here; where old Tiburtus found
Mere mountain-brow, and fenc'd with walls around;
And for his wearied Argives reared a home
Long ere yon seven proud hills had dream'd of Rome.
'Tis here, amid these patriarch olive trees,
Which Flaccus saw, or ancestry of these;
Oft musing, as he slowly strayed him past,
How here his quiet age should close at last.
And here behold them, still! Like ancient seers
They stand; the dwellers of a thousand years.
Deep-furrow'd, strangely crook'd, and ashy-grey,
[...] Read more
poem by John Kenyon
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English Bards and Scotch Reviewers: A Satire
'I had rather be a kitten, and cry mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers'~Shakespeare
'Such shameless bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd critics too,'~Pope.
Still must I hear? -- shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl
His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,
And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch reviews
Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my muse?
Prepare for rhyme -- I'll publish, right or wrong:
Fools are my theme, let satire be my song.
O nature's noblest gift -- my grey goose-quill!
Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,
Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,
That mighty instrument of little men!
The pen! foredoom'd to aid the mental throes
Of brains that labour, big with verse or prose,
Though nymphs forsake, and critics may deride,
The lover's solace, and the author's pride.
What wits, what poets dost thou daily raise!
How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!
Condemn'd at length to be forgotten quite,
With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.
But thou, at least, mine own especial pen!
Once laid aside, but now assumed again,
Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free;
Though spurn'd by others, yet beloved by me:
Then let us soar today, no common theme,
No eastern vision, no distemper'd dream
Inspires -- our path, though full of thorns, is plain;
Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.
When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,
Obey'd by all who nought beside obey;
When Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,
Bedecks her cap with bells of every clime;
When knaves and fools combined o'er all prevail,
And weigh their justice in a golden scale;
E'en then the boldest start from public sneers,
Afraid of shame, unknown to other fears,
More darkly sin, by satire kept in awe,
And shrink from ridicule, though not from law.
Such is the force of wit! but not belong
To me the arrows of satiric song;
The royal vices of our age demand
A keener weapon, and a mightier hand.
[...] Read more
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An Ode To A Saint Of Peace
An Ode to a Saint of Non-Violence – Mahatma Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi
He came from a non-descript Indian place
A village which would not have a place
In Her Majesty’s palace’ grace
What could this man for India raise?
When the Indian nation reeled
Under a foreign yoke
This frail man with iron will
Preached a master stroke
He visualized violence was no funnel
To get to the end of the tunnel
That the spring of freedom would gurgle
For the Indian freedom struggle
It is not arms and blood
Or revenge, violence or death
That will get India freedom
From the British kingdom
They can take away our right
They can make their sticks bite
They can take us to gaol
But they cannot take away our soul!
Protests with no violence
Will shake their conscience
It is the only way
For the British to loose its sway
Despite British scorn
And ire of critics
He made every Indian “re-born”
And friends of skeptics
Respect for all and love for mankind
He preached & practiced
He made every Indian aware
And the British beware
When the British enacted suppressive laws
This soul bonded us with his non-violent straw
His simplicity and truthfulness held all in awe
He gave us belief, pride and strength not to thaw
In 1930 Gandhi gave a key freedom call
Civil disobedience was the mantra for all
Salt Tax was the symbol of oppression
[...] Read more
poem by Arvind Chandak
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Whose Country Is This?
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of snakes;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of many waters;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of thieves! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of people;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of oil;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of earthquakes!
Whose country is this?
it is a land full of lovers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of volcanoes!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful flowers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of hansome men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of beautiful women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of roses;
Whose country is this?
it is a land ruled only by men;
Whose country is this?
It is a land without rainfall;
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by a woman;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of corruption!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pirates! !
Whose country is this?
It is a land ruled by law;
Whose country is this?
It is a land controlled by rebels!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of ice;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of pregnant women;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah!
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of singers;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of troubles;
Whose country is this?
It is a land full of war! !
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I Have The Touch
The time I like is the rush hour, cos I like the rush
The pushing of the people, I like it all so much
Such a mass of motion, do not know where it goes
I move with the movement and ... I have the touch
Im waiting for ignition, Im looking for a spark
Any chance collision and I light up in the dark
There you stand before me, all that fur and all that hair
Oh, do I dare ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake hands, shake hands.
Any social occasion, hello, how do you do
All those introductions, I never miss my cue
So before a question, so before a doubt
My hand moves out and ... I have the touch
Only, only
Wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact
Only, only
Im wanting contact with you
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Give me the thing I understand
Shake those hands, shake those hands
Shake those hands
Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, the tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back, but nothing seems to please
I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
Tac-tacatac, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Ah, tac-tacatac
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact
[...] Read more
song performed by Heather Nova
Added by Lucian Velea
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Grandfather Squeers
'My grandfather Squeers,' said The Raggedy Man,
As he solemnly lighted his pipe and began--
'The most indestructible man, for his years,
And the grandest on earth, was my grandfather Squeers!
'He said, when he rounded his three-score-and-ten,
'I've the hang of it now and can do it again!'
'He had frozen his heels so repeatedly, he
Could tell by them just what the weather would be;
'And would laugh and declare, 'while the _Almanac_ would
Most falsely prognosticate, _he_ never could!'
'Such a hale constitution had grandfather Squeers
That, 'though he'd used '_navy_' for sixty odd years,
'He still chewed a dime's-worth six days of the week,
While the seventh he passed with a chew in each cheek:
'Then my grandfather Squeers had a singular knack
Of sitting around on the small of his back,
'With his legs like a letter Y stretched o'er the grate
Wherein 'twas his custom to ex-pec-tor-ate.
'He was fond of tobacco in _manifold_ ways,
And would sit on the door-step, of sunshiny days,
'And smoke leaf-tobacco he'd raised strictly for
The pipe he'd used all through The Mexican War.'
And The Raggedy Man said, refilling the bowl
Of his own pipe and leisurely picking a coal
From the stove with his finger and thumb, 'You can see
What a tee-nacious habit he's fastened on me!
'And my grandfather Squeers took a special delight
In pruning his corns every Saturday night
'With a horn-handled razor, whose edge he excused
By saying 'twas one that his grandfather used;
'And, though deeply etched in the haft of the same
Was the ever-euphonious Wostenholm's name,
''Twas my grandfather's custom to boast of the blade
As 'A Seth Thomas razor--the best ever made!'
[...] Read more
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Dj Culture
(tennant/lowe)
--------------
(attention! attention!
Trente-neuf, quarante)
Imagine a war which everyone won
Permanent holiday in endless sun
Peace without wisdom, one steals to achieve
Relentlessly, pretending to believe
Attitudes are materialistic, positive or frankly realistic
Which is terribly old-fashioned, isnt it?
Or isnt it?
(dj culture) dance with me
(dj culture) lets pretend
Living in a satellite fantasy
Waiting for the night to end
(dj culture dj d)
Lets pretend we won a war
Like a football match, ten-nil the score
Anythings possible, were on the same side
Or otherwise on trial for our lives
Ive been around the world for a number of reasons
Ive seen it all, the change of seasons
And i, my lord, may I say nothing?
(dj culture) dance with me
(dj culture) lets pretend
Living in a satellite fantasy
Waiting for the night to end (dj culture)
(dj culture) dance with me
(dj culture) lets pretend
Living in a satellite fantasy
Wondering whos your friend (dj culture)
Now as a matter of pride
Indulge yourself, your every mood
No feast-days, or fast-days, or days of abstinence intrude
Consider for a minute who you are (consider/who you are)
What youd like to change, never mind the scars (change)
Bury the past, empty the shelf (bury the past)
Decide its time to reinvent yourself (its time)
Like liz before betty, she after sean
Suddenly youre missing, then youre reborn
And i, my lord, may I say nothing?
(dj culture) (dance with me)
(dj culture) (dance with me)
Living in a satellite fantasy
Waiting for the night to end (dj culture)
(dj culture) dance with me
(dj culture) lets pretend
Living in a satellite fantasy
Wondering whos your friend (dj culture)
(dj culture) and i, my lord, (une foix)
[...] Read more
song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pop and Culture
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.
They peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There is a peep on pop and culture,
Without a poop to stop.
Lady Gaga got that pop.
People peep on pop and culture.
Taylor Swift's got Country Rock.
People peep on pop and culture.
And Kanye's a social poppa.
People peep on pop and culture.
With Beyonce and Jay-Z,
Seen on top in magazines.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With no poop to stop.
We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And...
Prince is there with beats.
And Michael Jackson's Pop is sweet.
We feed on Beatles.
Those songs of Beatles.
We feed on Beatles.
And Lady Gaga just rocks.
We feed on Beatles.
And they introduced this culture shock.
Peeps peep on pop and culture.
People peep on pop and culture.
There's a peep on pop and culture,
With not a poop to stop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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